


002. Back Alley

by xavierurban



Series: quick-writes [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban
Summary: His stomach squirms as the window rolls down, but all he gets to see is a forehead and a pair of sunglasses. He can imagine the eyes roaming over him without seeing them.“Hey, mister,” he says, coy as he can, “lookin’ for a friend?”
Series: quick-writes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149884
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	002. Back Alley

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying something a little “new” here. I keep getting really bad writer’s block staring at a list of projects I’m supposed to be working on, and I’m hoping that some low-stakes writing will help me get unblocked. Everything in this collection is going to have minimal editing and world-building as the works are meant to be more of a quick-write kind of thing to get the juices flowing. Some might be connected, if that’s the way the wind blows, but it’s not the intention from the outset. I won’t deny the likelihood that these will be batfam-centric, but you’ll probably see some other DC characters pop up from time to time, too.
> 
> For now, I'm working from a 100-word prompt table, but that might not be true for everything in the series. Unless it's a particularly convoluted prompt, the title will likely just be whatever the prompt is.
> 
> A teen rating would probably suffice for this ficlet, but given the subject matter, I've gone with mature to be on the safe side. Trigger warning for underage prostitution (and its non-con implications), mainly, but also for references to domestic/child abuse, sex trafficking, sexual violence, and drug use.

Jason sighs and tips his head back against the brick wall of the alley he’d ducked into. He knows he should be out on the street, knows he’s not going to draw in any customers if he isn’t _visible_ , but he needs a minute. Just a minute, that’s all.

Fuck, he hates this. Hates that it’s come to this. That _he’s_ come to this, but what other choice does he have? He’s starving, and winter is coming again; he barely survived it last year, and Jason knows deep down that he won’t survive it again if something doesn’t change. And if selling himself for enough money to rent a cheap, dingy apartment is what it’s going to take to facilitate that change, well… What other choice does he have? He’s _eleven_ , it’s not like he can get a job, and he’d rather sell himself than run drugs. He won’t have any part in that, not after what drugs did to his mama.

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds, and then Jason lets it out slowly. It’ll be okay, he tells himself. He just has to avoid traffickers, and pimps, and murderers. Easy-peasy.

Yeah. Right.

Jason snorts and straightens up, shaking his head as he does. He smooths down the front of his loose tank top, shivering in the wind that blows down the alley to caress the bare skin of his boney arms and sharp collarbones. His legs shake, knees knocking together as he tries to rub warmth into his upper arms with cold palms. The wind catches in the rips of his jeans, too, and Jason bites back a quiet whine as he starts to trudge back towards the street. None of the other working girls or boys give him a second look, and so Jason tries to act the same. He’s not here to judge anyone, after all, and it’s always better to look away than get hit for staring.

His pops always told him it was rude to stare.

Turning his gaze towards the road, Jason shivers again and uncrosses his arms. He cocks a hip, one hand resting against it, and it feels ridiculous. He’s a _kid_ , how the heck is he supposed to make himself look _sexy?_ How’s he supposed to look like anything other than a child pretending to be something he’s not?

Then again, maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe that’s the _point_ , because Jason remembers hearing the girl who used to live upstairs from him complaining how she’d started losing some of her Johns when her curves started coming in.

Jason watches from the corner of his eye as a sleek, black SUV stops further up the street, the window rolling down barely a crack before the door opens. Two girls - women, really, if only barely - climb into the back, and the door closes again. The car speeds off. The whole thing feels like it took less than a minute. Jason swallows and reaches up to ‘fix’ his shirt, making sure the collar is still stretched to drape over his shoulder. He tries not to think about someone else’s hand on his shoulder, tries not to think about how warm it would probably be.

It feels like both an eternity and a matter of seconds before a car pulls up across the street and cuts its lights. Jason hesitates, but no one gets out, and no one rolls the window down, either. He swallows hard and takes a shaking step forward before he stops.

Don’t let them smell your fear, he tells himself, but it’s so much more easily said than done. Still, Jason tries to straighten his shoulders, and he raises his head, putting a bit of a sway in his step as he crosses the street. His stomach squirms as the window rolls down, but all he gets to see is a forehead and a pair of sunglasses. He can imagine the eyes roaming over him without seeing them.

“Hey, mister,” he says, coy as he can, “lookin’ for a friend?”

The man doesn’t say anything, just nods his head towards the back, and Jason’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. This is it, then. He’s really going to do it. He takes a few steps to the side, his hand shaking as he reaches for the handle and opens the door. There’s no one in the back, and Jason’s shoulders slump in short-lived relief as he slides himself in and closes the door. The lock clicks automatically, and Jason does his best to hide his flinch, distracting himself with putting on his seatbelt.

It’s only after he’s done it up that he wonders if it was the right move. Should he have crawled into the front, instead? But the driver had clearly motioned to the back, not for him to go around.

The car starts to move, and Jason decides it must have been okay. He chews his lip as he looks around. It’s a nice car. _Really_ nice, actually, and he wonders if maybe the driver is really just that - a driver. Not the John himself, but rather someone sent to find a good little whore for his boss to enjoy for a few hours.

That, or Jason’s an idiot who’s about to get himself _trafficked_. But they usually kidnap kids, right? Usually drag them right off the streets or lure them in with food. They don’t just pull up and pretend to be clients for kids already doing the job. Right?

Jason shivers again, but it’s less from the cold and more from his own discomfort. It’s actually kind of warm inside the car, the heat obviously turned on, and he decides to let himself enjoy it while it lasts. He hopes it’ll be warm wherever he’s going, too. Or, well. He’s not sure. A part of him wants to hope it’s just gonna be a quick blowjob in some dark alley, something that will be done and over with quickly, but… But a part of him wouldn’t mind being inside for a little while, even…

Even if that means being naked and getting fucked.

He hopes whoever he’s being taken to will be kind enough to do it on a bed, although Jason’s not naïve enough to hope that it will be gentle. The most he can hope for is that it won’t be _cruel_. He’s heard about Johns like that, has seen the bruises on the working boys and girls from Johns who like to ‘play rough.’

Jason fingers the frayed threads around a hole on his thigh and glances up at the rearview mirror before darting his attention back to his lap.

“We goin’ somewhere good, mister?” he finally asks.

“Sure, kid.”

Jason can’t tell if the guy sounds amused or not, but he’s leaning towards yes. He scowls. Well fuck that guy, then. He probably thinks Jason is stupid, or naïve, or- Or something. He’s not. It’s just that the uncertainty is driving him nuts, and so is the quiet.

“Your boss must be pretty rich if he can send someone else to pick out his whores.”

The driver snorts at that, and Jason feels his lips twitch into a small smirk. Score.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he says after a moment, “you’ll get your money.”

Jason squirms in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns to look out the window.

“I better,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he’d like to. The driver snorts again before he turns on the radio and cranks the volume up. Rude.

Jason sighs and leans his head against the window, letting the coolness of the glass contrast against the heat of the air in the car. His breath fogs up the glass as he exhales, and Jason closes his eyes and resigns himself to going through with whatever is going to happen next.


End file.
